


"Maybe my past wasn't bad?"; a lovely lie

by literalcat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Past Abuse, Trans Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 05:55:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literalcat/pseuds/literalcat
Summary: People don't have perfect lives; life doesn't work that way.But maybe, if you're lucky, you''ll find people who'll tell you that's okay, and who'll look after you and your perfectly imperfect self.





	"Maybe my past wasn't bad?"; a lovely lie

_Keith hadn’t always wondered why his life was different. He didn’t even know it was different- he didn’t ever put much thought into it._

_He was thirteen when he realised it all. In retrospect, thirteen was a pretty young age to realise you were being abused._

_His parents had divorced when Keith was two- he didn’t remember it. Every second weekend, he’d make the trip to see his father. He was a self-absorbed, awful man, but Little Keith didn’t know that. Teenager Keith felt bad for Little Keith- he wanted to comfort him. Tell him he would one day be free of it all._

_Strangely enough, Keith’s mother never spoke a bad word about his father. Maybe she wanted them to have their own relationship, regardless of hers. But that didn’t change the fact that he was a bad dad._

_He neglected Keith; he’d always put him second, always treat him like a liability instead of a child. His car was unsafe for Keith, too. All rusted and pointy._

_He often left the house without letting his son know about it, and would comfort him for about three minutes before leaving him in his room. He seemed to regard Keith as more of a toy car he could play with when he wanted to, and just leave him around when he didn’t. To make up for it, his dad always bought him nice things. It didn’t fix what he’d done._

_Keith remembered telling his mother he didn’t like Dad using him as a shield. Because that’s what he did; he used him as a barrier between him and his ex-wife, in whatever court situation he could._

_His dad also married somebody new- she was from Taiwan. His mother called her a “mail order bride”. Back then, wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded mean._

_She_ was _mean to him. And to his dog. Keith didn’t remember much about her- there were so many gaps in his childhood memory, it was hard to keep track- but he remembered being fine with her one day, and then suddenly, irrevocably terrified of her the next. Later, Teenager Keith would wonder what she had done to him._

_He remembered the wedding. He liked it then. Looking back on it, he realised he would have hated it if he’d understood it more._

_At eight, Keith had to call his father every Wednesday. Eventually, naïve Little Keith said “I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” and hung up the phone. He meant, of course, that he didn’t want to call him anymore, but his father took that opportunity to never even pick him up again._

_He never saw his dad after that, and was glad of it. He was incredibly, unbelievably glad. Relief had flooded over him like the most soothing of waves when he realised he wouldn’t have to deal with him ever again._

_When he was nine, he moved schools. He was being abused- that word again, that biting word that explained everything- by a horrible rat of a girl. The school did nothing, and so his mother pulled him out of it, and enrolled him in a new one._

_The new school was good. Keith loved it, and loved the friends he made. His temper had slowly begun to fade; he exploded into rages less now, and his friends were patient with him._

_But he was still being hurt._

_She tried so very hard, his mother. She had gone through just as much trauma as him, if not more. Her head was sick, too, the same as his. She didn’t mean to hurt him, she did her best, etcetera. These were the things Keith told himself during those times. And they may have been true, but they didn’t change the fact that she abused him._

_That word again._

_Would it never leave him?_

_Her abuse was different to his father’s. There was no cycle, no pattern- it was just the occasional argument. Except that it always, always got horribly and grotesquely out of hand. Desks were smashed to the floor. Blows were struck. Voices yelled and screamed themselves hoarse. Insults were hurled. Doors were slammed. Keith woke up with bruises up and down his arms the next morning. His birth name, screamed in her voice, would ring in his ears._

_Eventually, during the fights, Keith “switched off”. His emotions disappeared, his stare became blank, and his voice monotone. She decided to yell at him for that, too. He was slapped twice across the face; the first time, his head smacked hard against the wall behind him. The second time, it left a horrible, aching sting on his left cheek. It hurt._

_He rarely remembered the fights in clarity. He always blamed himself for all of it, though._

_When he thought about it- for at that age he found small comfort in analysis- Keith began to think that maybe that was the root of his unruly temper- whenever he was disciplined by his mother, it was never calmly. She would answer his anger with her rage- even when she wasn’t hitting him as punishment. Whether she was confiscating something of his, or sending him outside, it was never with the stern calm that parents are supposed to have. It was always with more anger. With more slammed doors. Keith never learnt how to deal with anger, and it was her fault._

_It felt good to finally hold her accountable for what she’d done. Her own suffering had caused her damage, yes, but that did not mean she had to damage her son._

_One day, in a blur Keith could not later remember, his mother was torn from him. He felt… relieved. He knew he should have been immediately sad, but he just wasn’t. When he’d heard about it, the only thing he could think was “Oh, thank God.”_

_Sometimes, he mourned her loss. After all, she still was his mother, and as much as he’d come to despise her, he still loved her. He hated that he did._

_And so, with nobody in his mother’s will to look after him, he was shoved into an ‘orphanage’ of sorts. He was supposed to go into a foster home, but Keith remembered his mother telling him how children were treated just as badly in those, and so refused and avoided them at all costs._

_Nobody adopted him. The dark-hared, brooding kid, with a profile of “violently disturbed”, drove many away. Keith never liked that term much- it made him seem scary and unpredictable. He wasn’t; he was just hurt, and pain makes people angry. If you kick a dog and it bites, whose fault do you think it is?_

_Keith wasn’t a dog, though. He decided that, instead, he’d be a lone wolf- maybe a lion. He’d always liked lions._

_He had ended up leaving the wonderful second school. His healing process came to a shuddering, broken halt, and began hurling itself in the opposite direction. He might have been worse, if not for the Garrison- if not for Shiro- taking him in a few years later._

_Though he wasn’t being hurt now, he was still suffering. He couldn’t walk near a metal workshop, for fear of  his father. He couldn’t bear to be called by his birth name, for fear of his mother. Loud noises made him flinch and yelling made him numb, and sirens… Sirens were the worst of them all._

_And suddenly, they started blaring. Sirens everywhere. So loud. So loud. She was yelling. She was screaming. He could smell the bloodlike scent of metal. He could see the workshop his father worked in. Keith couldn’t breathe. He was crying. He was screaming. He tried to run, but his legs were stuck. The mail order bride loomed over him. His father was smiling, smiling like nothing was wrong. Keith cried out for help. Keith cried out for somebody, anybody. But when his mother reached for him, he pushed her away, his wailing growing louder and louder until it all became a screeching, unrecognisable mess._

_And then, it stopped._

These things flashed across the ‘screen’ in front of him, all swift as thought and over in less than a moment. Keith came back to the present panting. His throat felt hoarse; his neck was cold with sweat.

He was lying on the floor, and slowly sat up. The rest of the team just… looked at him. As if they didn’t know how to react. They looked shocked. They looked sorry for him.

Keith scrambled to stand up, horrified and embarrassed. He threw off the headset and bolted from the room, ignoring the calls of “Keith!” and “Come back!”

Nobody came after him.

He ran, and ran, and kept running, hoping to God that he’d just get lost forever in the castle. That he’d never be found. That it really did have over a thousand rooms, that nobody would go after him.

As he ran, he considered two things:

  1. Going to the training deck
  2. Hiding in his room



He decided to do neither, and instead just kept running until he was breathless and aching and his vision swam. Keith collapsed in a dark, secluded corner, panting and heaving. He hoped no-one knew where he was. Maybe he’d never have to face the rest of the team again. Maybe he’d die here. Maybe they’d never find his body.

Keith curled up into a ball, hugging his knees and letting his hair fall around his face. He was too exhausted to cry anymore- the tears just trickled soundlessly down, past his nose, onto his lips, his jaw. His head pounded. His sides ached. Something stabbed at them as he breathed. He should have been worried, probably.

The red paladin was just slipping under the surface of dizzy sleep when he heard a voice.

“Oh, thank God. Keith- hey, you are Keith, right?”

Keith looked up at Hunk forlornly.  He was too tired to run again. His small form was as sorry a sight as could be; pale, sallow skin, eyes rimmed with red, hair a mess, lips curved into what could only be described as an exhausted, depressed pout. He looked like the kitten the neighbours didn’t want and dumped outside in the rain, left to die.

Hunk didn’t say anything else when Keith looked up; he seemed to understand. Keith felt like a zombie- or maybe a robot- but he was grateful Hunk didn’t mention what had happened. He just gently helped Keith up, like he was made of glass, slowly guiding him back. He let Keith lean on him.

“We sent everyone out looking for you, you know. We were all really worried. You scared us a little, dude.” Hunk said quietly. Keith could do nothing but nod. He knew he was supposed to apologise, but he couldn’t. He was too tired. “Shiro ordered us to find you almost the second you left- even Allura and Coran followed his orders.”

Even them?

Shiro must have been serious.

“Pidge ran after you, like, right away, and Lance was pretty much beside himself with worry. Didn’t even crack any jokes.” He shook his head. “I mean, how worried could you be to not even make a bad pun? Anyway,” Hunk smiled at him. “I’m glad we found you, buddy.”

They walked in silence for a bit after that. It was... Nicer than Keith expected. In fact, he was a little relieved to have been found by Hunk. Hunk was calm. Quiet. Gentle with people. Anyone else would have been frantic and emotional.

Keith had never liked being treated like he was fragile, but somehow it was alright with Hunk.

He realised he’d been trembling ever since he’d run. It had started to cease, now. He was slowly coming back. Slowly going indoors, away from the rain.

Wait, where was he taking him? “Um,” he said. His voice came out croaky and hoarse, and he cleared his throat. “Um, where are we going?” Keith had expected to be taken back to where they’d held the training exercise, or to the main chamber of the castle, or something. Instead, they were a few steps away from the corridor where their rooms all were.

“Uh, your room? Dude,” Hunk said at his look of confusion. “You need sleep. The last thing you need is to be surrounded by, like, six other worried people.” He opened the door for Keith, leading him to his bed and- was he tucking him in? Like a child?

In other circumstances, Keith would have protested. But he didn’t. If anything, he was grateful. Appreciative.

“Don’t worry, my guy,” Hunk said quietly, patting him on the shoulder. “I’ll make sure nobody bothers you.”

Then he left, letting the door slowly slide shut. Whether that meant he would let the rest of the team know he’d been found or not, Keith had no idea, but at that moment, he didn’t care. Hunk was right- he needed sleep.

And sleep he did, dreamlessly and fitfully, in a bed that would never feel like his, in a castle that would never feel like home. Keith had never had a place he could call home, and space was no different.

* * *

 

When He finally woke again, it was to the same sharp, stabbing pains he’d felt earlier- only this time, they were unbearably acute. He suddenly sat up, and regretted it as complete and utter pain tore across his sides. Keith gasped, doubling over instead, again wishing he hadn’t. Oh God. Oh God. This was bad. This was bad.

He stopped moving, and simply stayed that way, clutching his ribs and breathing heavily. The pain steadily worsened, spreading deeper and deeper beneath his skin, like a rat burrowing through his flesh. His stomach ached. His shoulders ached. His entire body felt like it had been beaten with sticks and stones- and the room was warm, so warm.

Keith tried to call out, but all that came was a pathetic gasp. He tried again.

“Help! H…”

But he couldn’t. Each time he inhaled, it hurt more. His breath was shortened- it was leaving him quicker than blood from an open wound. He could hardly breathe, he could hardly breathe, he couldn’t move, his body wouldn’t move, he couldn’t… He couldn’t…

“Help…” It was barely a whisper.

“Keith? Keith, you okay?”

Lance.

The last person he wanted to see.

But still, somebody was better than nobody.

“H-Help! Please!” He said as loudly as he dared, crying out as the pain worsened. There was silence. _Goddammit. God fucking dammit. Come on, Lance, the one time I actually need you._

“...Oh, Jesus.” He heard Lance quietly say. Then, louder: “I’m going to get Shiro. Stay right there, buddy.”

 _Where else would I go?_ He wondered.

The minutes seemed to drag into hours. All the while, the deep, burrowing, aching pain grew. Maybe it was the pain that made it all seem so much longer- after all, it was only about five minutes before Lance came back with Shiro, the two ultimately deciding to bring Keith to a healing pod amidst the rest of the team, of which Keith was barely aware. But it felt like an eternity.

His mind had gone blank. The pain hummed away in the back of his mind. Allura’s face appeared above him, saying something urgent. He remembered nothing more as his eyes fluttered closed.

* * *

 

“Keith? Keith, no!” Allura sighed, sinking back on her heels. “He’s… He’s unconscious.”

Everyone seemed to fall silent, looking anywhere but Keith’s motionless body. Shiro was, as always, the first to speak.

“Well, we really have no choice. He won’t be happy about it, but… I’d definitely rather deal with an unhappy Keith than a dead Keith.”

Allura nodded, and gradually pulled off Keith’s shirt, revealing what looked like a black, too-small tank top underneath. Pidge’s eyes widened, then softened in understanding. They nudged Allura. “Are you sure everyone should be here? I mean… Y’know…”

 She looked down at them. “There isn’t time, Pidge. Besides,” she added with a soft smile. “I doubt I could keep them away from their friend if I tried.”

Pidge nodded, a little jerkily, and tried to smile back as Allura gave their hand a quick squeeze.

“Now, we are running out of time. Everyone,” she looked at them seriously. “Please, do not panic and do _not_ mention this to Keith.”

Slowly, she undid the clasps on the side of the tank top- and it became clear what she and Pidge had been talking about.

Pidge looked away, like they’d already known. Hunk averted his eyes. Shiro said nothing, but a look of pity crossed his face; Coran was silent as he readied the healing pod.

Lance tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed, until he realised what the round bumps on Keith’s chest were. He paled. Were they…? But, how could Keith… And that tank top…

He said nothing; Pidge met his eyes and shook their head. Instead, he just looked on as Allura examined the red, swollen area on his ribs. “Coran?” Her voice startled Lance out of his reverie.

“Yes, Princess?”

“I think it is broken. Prepare the healing pod for long-term recovery immediately!” She hurriedly wrapped a brace around it, throwing a loose gown over him.

There was an anxious few seconds before it was ready. Silently, her face a mask, Allura gently laid Keith in the pod, and stepped back.

It shut with a hiss.

No problems; no issues. All successful.

Allura collapsed into the chair behind her. Everyone seemed to heave one collective sigh of relief.

No-one seemed to want to address the elephant in the room- that Keith was… Well, what, exactly? He sounded like a boy. He had a boy’s name, a boy’s face and a boy’s body- or so Lance had assumed until just now.

He considered asking Pidge, or maybe Shiro, but decided against it. Instead, he just waited, until everyone had left for bed, or muttered that they had to do some chore or another. Until nobody was in the room save for him and Keith.

Lance looked at him, leaning his forehead against the glass. “You idiot,” he muttered. “We’re a team now. No-one… Nobody cares if you haven’t had a perfect life. Not many of us have.”

He stayed there for a moment longer, the cool, smooth glass clinging to his hair as he pulled away. Lance kept his gaze on Keith, at the tears frozen on his face, refusing to look away for even a second, until he was too exhausted to stand, and fell asleep opposite him.

“Wake up soon, okay, buddy?”

* * *

 

Cold.

No life. No movement.

Unconsciousness.

What…? What was happening?

Ambience. A detached, disembodied feeling. Not living, but still alive. Not breathing, but not dead. Numb, but still feeling the cold. It had always been like this; it would always be like this. There was nothing but _this_ for centuries and centuries onward, until time collapsed and life closed itself. Keith would be motionless, blanketed in cold, forever.

…Keith?

Keith.

Me.

Alive.

Suddenly, Keith’s awareness snapped back to him, all in a rush, and he remembered exactly who he was and why he was here. Well… No, he didn’t remember how he got here, or why, really, but he could guess.

The pod hissed gently as its doors slid away, and Keith’s eyes fluttered open. He groaned as his knees gave way, fully expecting to slam into the castle floor. Arms caught him roughly at the last second. Keith, dazed from being in the pod so long, had to take a moment to recognise who it was.

“…Lance?” The word was slurred.

“Keith! Oh my God, you’re awake. Holy fuck. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Lance wrapped his arms tightly around Keith, so close he could feel Lance’s quick, panicked heart. He was still talking- it took Keith a moment to make sense of the words.

“You were in there for- for _so long_ and Allura was worried you wouldn’t wake up but you did and you’re awake and oh my G- wait, how do you feel? Your ribs okay? Allura said they were broken, and they looked real bad.” They broke apart, Lance holding Keith’s arms gingerly, as if worried he would collapse again. He didn’t.

Keith shook his head slightly. “Uh, I think I’m okay.” His voice was still oddly unfocused and slurred- as if it hadn’t been used in a while. It worried him. How long had he been in that pod?

As if reading his thoughts, Lance gestured towards the pod. “You… you were in there for almost five weeks. It was scary, haha…”

 _I was in the pod for a month?_ No wonder Lance had hugged him. He was suddenly, acutely aware of the fact that Lance was still touching him.

Keith looked up at him again, about to ask how long people were usually in them for, but stopped. Lance wasn’t Lance. He looked a lot thinner than Keith remembered. Thinner than usual-  almost skeletal. Frail. His skin had paled and his eyes were shining, rimmed with red like he’d been crying. He looked like he would tip over and shatter at any given moment.

“Lance, are you okay?” His hands found Lance’s. “What happened to you?”

The blue paladin shook his head. “I’m fine, Keith, don’t even worry about it.” Lance smiled shakily, drawing his hands back and pulling the sleeves of his jacket further down. “I’ll go get the rest of the crew, no doubt they’ll wanna see our favourite Galra boy—“

“I’m going to worry anyway, Lance!” Keith snapped. He regretted it instantly; Lance’s eyes widened, and he looked like a deer in headlights.

Keith resisted the urge to take his hands again. “I’m… I’m gonna worry because you’re my friend. I’m okay now, so it’s my turn to worry about you.” He looked into Lance’s eyes, ignoring his own discomfort. “Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

For a moment, it looked as though Lance was going to tell him. Then his face closed off, became vacant- he just smiled, saying “Really, dude, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Something was off about his usual smirk- his eyes looked distant and ghosted, his smile too empty to be real.

Something in Keith’s heart broke then. It cracked painfully, splitting in two and landing with a dull _thud_ somewhere in his stomach.

_Why don’t you trust me, Lance?_

He didn’t say the words aloud. If Lance didn’t want to tell him, that was his decision, right?

So why did it hurt so much? Lance wasn’t okay. Why couldn’t he at least admit that? Why? Why? Was he trying to protect Keith? Did he not trust him? What was wrong? Why wouldn’t he say a goddamn thing?

Keith’s heart ached as if it were bleeding. But he said nothing of it, instead mustering up a smile and saying he’d like to see the rest of the team.

* * *

 

“Keith! Allura- Hey, princess, come look! He’s okay! Keith’s okay!”

“What? Oh, Keith! Thank goodness you’re awake!”

“Keith’s alright, is he? Well, that’s certainly a relief. You humans do take a long time to recover.”

“Keith’s okay? Where- Hey, man! You doing alright?”

“Good to have you back, Keith.”

Keith looked around, actually smiling, albeit sheepishly. Pidge’s eyes were shining as they ran to hug him. Allura’s, too. Hunk was crying- smiling, but crying. Coran looked exhausted, but relieved. He wiped his eyes, muttering that something was caught in them.

Shiro just hugged him and Pidge, holding them both very close. Hunk flung his arms around Keith, too, then Allura, and soon everyone was hugging him, crying, smiling, laughing. Even Lance, shaky as he was, frail as his arms were.

Keith felt himself tearing up, too- He never imagined this. He never imagined they’d care this much. In retrospect, he supposed he should have… But it was a nice moment. He never wanted it to end. His heart felt warm, healed. Laughter bubbled up, and for the first time, he truly felt at home.

* * *

 

It had been two days since Keith had finally woken up. He felt better- more comfortable, more welcome, less of an outcast- aside from being physically healthy. But something still plagued his mind.

Lance.

He hadn’t looked himself when Keith woke up, and he certainly hadn’t since. He’d tried to ask Shiro about it, but as soon as he did, his face went dark- sad. He told Keith he should ask Lance himself, that it wasn’t his place to say. And so Keith tried very, very hard to get Lance to open up. But every time Keith brought it up, he said the same thing. “Don’t worry about me, I’m fine, it’s okay,” etc.

Keith cursed himself. He was never good with words- never good with actually articulating what he meant, what he felt. It infuriated him. Why was it so hard to just convey how he felt? He needed Lance to know that Keith was there for him, that it was okay to talk if he needed to, that he wasn’t alone. And yet it was more than that- he just couldn’t put it into words.

He’d never liked going behind someone’s back to find out a secret, but in this case, he had to. Lance looked like he was dying a little more every day, and Keith was powerless to stop it. He had to find out how to help him- but he couldn’t do that if he didn’t know what was wrong.

“Hey, Hunk? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Hunk looked up from the device he was examining. “Sure, dude, what’s up?”

Keith sat down beside him. “It’s… about Lance.” He said. Hunk’s eyes grew sad and distant, just like Shiro’s had. He turned back towards the piece of tech. For a moment, Keith thought he would simply say the same thing: That he should talk to Lance about it himself. Instead, he sighed, going back to tinkering with whatever the device was.

“He’s been like that ever since you were in the pod.” Hunk said eventually, voice low. “I’ve only ever seen him like this once before. A few years ago, when his sister was hospitalised for an overdose.” Keith did a double-take at that, but said nothing. Hunk continued.

“He just kind of… Switched off. He got real quiet and… subdued, I guess. Wouldn’t eat a thing. Barely came out of his room for weeks. It was kinda scary, y’know?” He added softly. “You… it’s unsettling to see that happen to someone like Lance. He’s just always so optimistic and goofy, you forget not to take it for granted.

“A month later, his sister was discharged, but Lance was still in pretty bad shape. Even after seeing that his sister was fine, he still looked awful. It had gotten to the point where he didn’t even shower anymore, or anything like that. I think he blamed himself for it. And then, one day, he…”

Hunk put down the device and looked at Keith. “Do I really need to say out loud what happened? I don’t like talking about it.” His eyes were red and shining slightly- he averted them. Keith’s own eyes widened as he realised what Hunk meant, and he stood up abruptly. “I’ve gotta find him.”

“No, no, wait. Hey, I said wait,” he grabbed Keith’s arm. “When he gets like this, nobody can reason with him. He gets into this space where he thinks he’s a burden to everyone, and blames himself for everything. Talking will probably make it worse.” He stood up, too. Keith felt himself starting to tear up. “Then how the fuck am I supposed to stop him from killing himself?! I don’t want him to die, Hunk! I don’t want Lance to die!” He hiccupped, not even trying to stop himself from crying. “How else am I supposed to get through to him? Huh? Doesn’t he realise that he’s just hurting himself- no, hurting _absolutely_ _everyone_ \- by pretending he’s okay when he isn’t?!

“I’m not letting him do this to himself. I’m going to find him, and- and you can’t try to stop me.” He yanked his arm away and started towards the door.

“Wait,” Hunk said. Keith shot a glare at him. “I’m coming with you. I wanna help him, too.” Keith’s eyes softened, and he nodded. “Sorry, Hunk.”

“Don’t be. Let’s go find our buddy, okay?”

* * *

 

Lance heard them before they arrived. He cursed, hastily pulling his sleeves down. They were white. Oh, no, they were white. Where was his- Where was his goddamn jacket?

He looked frantically for it, arms shaking. Keith and Hunk were already at his door when he remembered with a shock that ran through his entire body that he’d left it in the sick bay.

Trembling, he ran inside the bathroom, trying to work the keypad into locking the door behind him. Did these doors even lock? They looked like the ones in Star Trek. Did Star Trek doors lock?

Whatever, whatever! It didn’t matter now; he could hear Hunk and Keith calling for him. He bit back a sob, hiding in a dark corner of the room. It was all over. It was all over. He was done for. He was screwed. They would see what he had done- they would see what his arms looked like without their jacket, they would see how much his ribs stuck out from his body, his hips, his collarbone. They would see everything he’d tried so desperately to hide.

They’d pity him. He’d be forcing them to feel bad for him, even when they had problems of their own. God, how selfish was he? How fucking needy and disgusting? How clingy. How stupid. How worthless.

“Lance, we know you’re in there. Please, just open the door.”

“We’re worried about you, buddy…”

Lance’s breath shortened. His chest tightened horribly, throat feeling as if it had closed up. He whimpered- his arms had started to sting and burn.

“Lance… Lance, _please_. Please, just let me in.” Keith said, his voice cracking. Lance heard the tears in his voice- his heart clenched with guilt. Too late. Too late. He’d already made Keith worry. He should die, he should just die…

Keith banged on the door. “For fuck’s sake, Lance, we care about you! We fucking care about- I care about you! Please… Please. Please just let me talk to you. Say something. Anything, I don’t care what it is. Just let me know that you’re… That you’re not… Oh, God…” Lance heard him start crying. He felt numb, detached. But a part of him broke hearing Keith cry.

It wasn’t something he was used to, especially over him. Why him? Why care so much about someone who does so little? He was useless. Worthless. Why did they care?

 _They don’t,_ a nasty voice answered- one Lance had gotten so used to hearing he assumed it was his own. _They don’t really care, they’re just annoyed at you. Annoyed at you for being a burden. That’s all you are, isn’t it? A fucking burden._

“Lance, just let us in.” Hunk said quietly. “Don’t you remember what you promised me? What you promised Annie?”

Lance felt his heart tighten painfully at that. Of course he remembered. Of course he fucking remembered, but what did that matter? It’s not like I’m ever going to see her again. We’re just going to be stuck here in space forever, trying not to die every five minutes from some insane alien attack! What was the point?

“…You’re going to see her again. And I know she’ll be glad to see her older brother again, too.”

He hadn’t realised he’d said all that aloud.

“Lance, listen to me. You’re going to see your family again. You’re going to make it out alive, okay? I’ll… I’ll make sure of it myself. I promise.” Great, so Hunk had told Keith what happened. Fantastic. Another person to burden.

He stood up clumsily, leaning heavily on the wall. “What if I don’t want to make it out alive, Keith?! Maybe I’m tired of all this. Maybe all I want is to just die!” His frail body wracked with a sob. “I don’t wanna live like this anymore. I don’t wanna live anymore, period! I just want this to be over.”

There was silence. Maybe they’d finally abandoned him too- better for them, anyway, Lance thought bitterly. Then, he heard Keith sigh. “Think Pidge could hack the door open?” He said quietly to Hunk. No, no no no no no no. No, Pidge couldn’t see him like this. Not Pidge. Pidge was only fourteen. They shouldn’t see him like this. No.

He unlocked the door hastily, sinking to the floor once again.

Lance heard, rather than saw, Keith and Hunk step inside. He hugged his arms close to his chest, heart pounding, head swimming. He expected half-hearted sympathy, or kind, heartfelt words that meant nothing, that _understood_ nothing.

Instead, Keith just sat beside him, resting his head on Lance’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything- made no attempt to look at Lance’s arms, did nothing but sit there, next to him, in silence. Hunk sat on the other side of Lance, putting an arm around his shoulders. He started to hum quietly, some tune Lance found vaguely familiar but couldn’t name for certain.

Lance hadn’t realised he was still shaking, but it began to cease. He realised tears were streaming down his face, but made no attempt to stop them. He could feel Keith’s warmth, he could hear Hunk’s voice. It was all that mattered. The hazy, heavy beginnings of sleep began to seep through him, and he gave in to it, letting his eyes flutter closed.

Keith smiled,  he himself beginning to fall asleep. He could hear Lance’s soft breathing, and that was all he cared about- Lance breathing meant Lance was alive. Alive and safe and still able to feel happy once more.

Hunk looked over at the two of them, smiling. He laid his jacket over both of them and left quietly, making sure not to wake either of them.

**Author's Note:**

> daaaaaaaamn literalcat, at it again with the projecting ur entire life story onto fictional characters!  
> so, um, yeah. right up until just before the death of his mother, this story mimics mine exactly. i wrote this before the Galra!Keith thing was confirmed, by the way.  
> this is, as all stories are on this account, a vent work. to this day, i still question whether or not i really deserve to say im being "abused", and the question has haunted me all my life.  
> anyway, thank you for reading. i genuinely appreciate it, and hope you have a lovely day.


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